Her/Nemo

Senses are dissociated, the mind fragments his perception of day and the figure of the woman of the dreams materializes itself at the center of the room. In that moment everything takes place in the real world and, at the same time, nothing happens.

It's like falling in love with a shadow

A memory of everything

Falling in love with a ghost that knows all your secrets

A glass of wine under (or behind) the light of the full moon.

The flavor of smoke in mouth, trapped in unspoken words, ensnared in the roots of an unknown world, an abstraction, a metaphoric hallucination.

A world that is an idea: the perfect utopia the mind goes to when it does not have the certainty of where else to go.

Where is she from?

Everything is spinning two thousand miles away at the Nemo point.

Her name is Nemo. Maybe all the equation is summarized in her soul.

A soul that is built in a moment of desperation, an instant of utter solitude and madness (a kind madness).

A perfect soul, built in the edge of the night where man dances with the devil, again, in the pale moonlight.

I believe that soul.

That's why I'm here, in an empty room, with music touching my senses and the unreal woman of the text lying in front of my eyes.

Falling in love with a shadow.

An eternal dream.

A shattered memory of Morpheus' mind, only created to make me sleep forever next to a woman that I never knew.

Thanks to @danuchimbo (Ig) for being my partner in the edition of this text.